Romancing with Rita
by Gamma Orionis
Summary: In which everyone thinks Gilderoy Lockhart is magnificent, most especially Rita Skeeter. Written for Fireworks Show for Camp Potter.


Author's Notes: Written for the second assignment for Fireworks Show for Camp Potter – _write a romance story for Rita/Gilderoy_.

Oh Rita and Gilderoy, how I adore you two.

Enjoy!

)O(

When the Daily Prophet managed to procure an interview with Gilderoy Lockhart – an exclusive, personal interview to take place in his very own home – Rita had absolutely begged to be allowed to perform the interview.

"We really ought to send a more experienced reporter," her supervisor told her doubtfully, but she interrupted him.

"I know _everything_ about him! I've read every one of his books – why, I've been following his career since _Gadding with Ghouls_! There's no one better than me to interview him."

She had begged and pestered and reasoned until finally she was given the job, and she showed up on Gilderoy Lockhart's stoop sharply at the arranged time with the feeling that her heart had risen into somewhere in the vicinity of her eyebrows.

She rang the bell and the door was answered by a rather slim, pointed man in dark robes. He looked at her questioningly. "You are here to see Mr. Lockhart, I presume."

_A butler. How quaint._ But a man who spent as much time around dangerous magical creatures as Gilderoy Lockhart did probably preferred to spend his free time with humans, she supposed.

"I'm here to interview Mr. Lockhart about his newest book," Rita said, smiling as brightly as she could. "He granted me an exclusive interview – I'm from the Daily Prophet."

"Ah, Miss Skeeter, is it?"

"Yes, that's right," she said, and smiled again when he stepped back and inclined his head, indicating for her to step into the foyer.

"He's in the parlour, Miss. If you will allow me to escort you…"

"Yes, of course," Rita nodded, glancing around at the foyer for immediate impressions that she could later note in her article. The ceiling was remarkably high, there were sweeping staircases on either side of the foyer, leading to a second floor, and a skylight in the domed roof spilled a puddle of golden light directly onto a golden fountain in the shape of Mr. Lockhart himself, brandishing his wand, from which a delicate arc of water spurted. Every inch of the wall was covered in pictures of Mr. Lockhart as well, from life-sized framed portraits to pages torn from magazines to copies of the covers of his books. Every single one grinned and waved at Rita as she passed by.

The butler opened another door and Rita stepped in, nodding to him by way of thanks. The parlour was small, with a sofa on one side and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves packed with glossy books. A fire crackled in the grate, and facing the fireplace, there was a large crimson armchair embroidered with gold.

The door clicked shut behind Rita, and then the armchair spun around.

Gilderoy Lockhart was sitting in it, and however handsome he was in every picture Rita had ever seen, he was a thousand times more beautiful in person.

"Rita Skeeter," he said, flashing her that dazzling smile that had become so iconic in the past years. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you."

"A- a pleasure," Rita said, shaking herself a bit and indicating the sofa. "May I sit down?"

"Of course you may. My man tells me that you're from the Daily Prophet."

"Yes, I am." Rita perched on the sofa and spread and her parchment on her lap, then licked the tip of her quill and set it to hovering above the page. "You don't mind if I use a Quick-Quotes Quill, do you?"

"Of course not, of course not," Gilderoy said jovially. "A fine little piece of ingenuity, those quills – I worked with the man who perfected the spell, you know. He begged to share the credit with me, but I said to him, I said, 'I'm known for so much already; it will catch on more quickly if you put your name to it', and look – now here you are with one!"

Rita blushed. The Daily Prophet had failed to tell her that, and she didn't know what to say, so she cleared her throat and began the list of questions she had rehearsed. "Now tell me, Mr. Lockhart, how did you first become involved in fighting the Dark Arts?"

Gilderoy stretched his arms lazily out to either side and turned his palms up to indicate a sort of carelessness. "I suppose I always knew that it was my place to do all I can to protect the Wizarding world from dark creatures." He flashed her his dazzling smile again, his teeth glittering in the light from the chandelier.

"Mmm." Rita's eyes glazed over slightly while she stared at him, appreciating every aspect of his perfect face, perfect eyes, perfect smile… "Oh!" she added when the silence drew out for long enough that she remembered that she was supposed to be interviewing him. "And- what motivates you in your work?"

"A sense of responsibility to my fellow Wizards," he said as quickly as if it had been rehearsed, which, Rita reminded herself it probably had been. After all, he must have had so many interviews that these were all questions he was very familiar with.

"Can you tell us a bit about your newest book?" she asked, then let her Quick-Quotes Quill take over while he commenced a monologue about Banshees and how one was to keep them under control. While he spoke, she watched the way his eyebrows drew together when he discussed particularly serious matters, and the way the corner of one lip twitched up when he related anecdotes about the other influential Witches and Wizards he knew personally, and how he kept those big, clear, bright blue eyes fixed on her at every moment…

Rita couldn't take it any longer.

She flung her Quill and parchment aside, and, cutting Lockhart off in the middle of an impassioned speech about protecting one's ears from Banshees' shrieking, pounced on him.

The butler opened the door and stepped in just in time to see Mr. Lockhart's chair tip backwards in a flailing mass of brightly-clad limbs. He turned around promptly and exited. He knew the effect that Gilderoy Lockhart had on women – on _everyone_, really – and he had absolutely no wish to watch him and that Skeeter woman make a mess of his parlour.

)O(

_Fin_


End file.
